


Show Me Your Teeth

by Leviosally468



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: ...and yet here we are INDEED, ...so is this bard, ...sort of, Bath Sex, Biting, Cintra (The Witcher), Fluff and Humor, Geralt of Rivia's FANGS, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Missing Scene, Tags Are Hard, Teeth, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviosally468/pseuds/Leviosally468
Summary: Geralt's bath just got a hell of a lot more fun.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 452





	Show Me Your Teeth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stonecoldsilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldsilly/gifts).



> For my dear heart, Stoney. May this help you on the road to healing XD XD XD.  
> I hope you all enjoy a bit of crack-y filth.

“Where the _fuck_ are my clothes, Jaskier?”

Jaskier looks away sheepishly as the witcher’s golden eyes flash from across the tub, and he tries (again) not to focus on the way Geralt’s muscles flex and stretch, sending ripples across the surface of the water.

He could almost be glad the man was submerged in the bath now instead of leaning against the edge, bare ass glistening with chamomile oil as Jaskier fought to get his breathing and the multiple shades of crimson flushing his cheeks, under control.

“ _Ah_ , well uh, they were sort of covered in Selkiemore guts so I sent them away to be washed… _anyway_ , you’re not going tonight as a witcher.” Jaskier croons, matching Geralt’s penetrating scowl with an impish grin.

“If I see so much as a hint of lace, you’re on your own.” Geralt growls through clenched teeth…the light flickers off the points of his canines and Jaskier swallows. He finds himself suddenly thankful he’s kneeling as his legs wobble involuntarily.

“My dear witcher, may I remind you I have _impeccable_ taste…”

“Impeccable taste in what, exactly?” Geralt replies, non-plussed, and Jaskier can only stare as Geralt’s lips curl around the word, pulling back once more to reveal a perfect row of pearly whites.

He wonders briefly if all witchers have… _fangs_ …

He gives himself a small shake, eyes flickering from Geralt’s plush lips back to his eyes.

“Oooooh, ouch…hitting me where it hurts, my fashion sense…” He shoots back, leaning forward over the edge with a challenging glare.

“You will be happy to know I have selected nothing but the finest, _boldest_ most eye-catching shades of… _grey_ …” He huffs in a mocking tone, gesturing dramatically at Geralt’s rather fixed look, “…really set off your eyes, turn a few heads, I reckon…” Jaskier continues, finally testing the willingness of his legs to support him as he stands, cocking his hips to the side.

“Hmmm” Geralt’s scowl gains a few lines, and Jaskier fights the urge to lean forward and kiss it right off his face.

“Now, turn that frown upside down, _non-friend_ , I promise nothing embarrassing, on my honor.” He presses a hand chivalrously to his chest as Geralt cups his hands in the water and splashes his face once more. Jaskier didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look so irritatingly beautiful performing such a mundane task.

“It is in the name of your so-called honor that I have been dragged here, Jaskier…” Geralt grumbles wetly, scrubbing an arm across his brow. Jaskier leans in, bracing both hands on the side of the tub.

“…And I am _honored_ , Geralt…positively _chuffed_ —” He starts, eyes tracking the rivulets of water running over Geralt’s brow and down his cheeks, dripping from his lips and chin. Geralt’s eyes bore into him, which isn’t nearly threat he thinks the witcher means it to be, as he easily could spend hours gazing right back.

“I swear to the gods, real or otherwise, if you can’t keep it in your pants for one evening, I will personally chew you up and spit your remains to the Manticores.”

Jaskier’s eyes flicker once more to Geralt’s mouth. Almost involuntarily, he leans in further. He swallows thickly against the nervous hammering of his heart against his ribs and wonders if Geralt can hear it. He fights back the rush of color threatening his cheeks again as the thought of Geralt’s teeth against _his_ skin flashes in his mind’s eye, and when he’s eighty percent sure he can speak again without his voice cracking, he licks his lips and gives Geralt a roguish wink.

“Tempt me with a good time, Witcher…tell me, do you sharpen those fangs regularly?” Jaskier purrs leaning precariously over the tub until their noses are now only a few inches apart and he can feel the steam billowing off of Geralt’s skin.

The last thing he sees are Geralt’s eyes as they slide, (rather seductively), from his face downward and back up again before his hands finally slip on the wet sides on the wash tub and he tumbles gracelessly forward into Geralt’s lap with a yelp, sending a great wash of water cascading over the sides of the tub.

“Yeuch, bleagh! pfffffffft! Ger—AaaaahhhHHHH!” Jaskier splutters as two impossibly strong fists grip the collar of his tunic and haul him upright until he’s sitting, (rather pleasantly to be quite frank), astride Geralt’s hips. Geralt’s hands tighten in his wet clothes, tugging him forward and glowering into Jaskier’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the verbal onslaught.

It doesn’t come.

He shivers as Geralt’s breath puffs hot over his neck, a small whine of pleasure slithering between his lips as the witcher burrows under his collar. His eyes flutter open and he gives himself a small pinch at the rather unexpected turn of events just to make sure that yes, yes indeed Geralt is tugging the wet neckline of his tunic aside to mouth at his shoulder. _Fuck_. Jaskier moans as the ever present, Geralt-fueled simmer in his groin rises to a fever pitch, sending his cock twitching interestedly.

“What’s the matter? Wolf got your tongue?” Geralt whispers against his ear, and Jaskier can feel a hint of teeth graze over his lobe and down the pulse point of his neck. A fresh wave of heat surges over his skin as Geralt’s tongue laves over his collar bone before biting experimentally into the flesh of his shoulder. He hisses sharply, hands rocketing to Geralt’s shoulders and arching back as he slides a supporting arm around him.

“—hhhhGeralt _fuck_ —” He manages, hands flying to the edge of the tub now as Geralt continues to nip marks into his skin. “…You’re welcome to my _soul_ …just keep doing tha-ah- _ahh_ —” Jaskier groans as Geralt’s teeth bite into the skin of his neck, harder this time.

“Y’know…” He stammers breathlessly as Geralt’s mouth works over his throat, sucking what were sure to be very prominent red marks into his flesh, “…possessive lover is a good look on you…”

“Mmmmm…could say the same about you…” Geralt murmurs, punctuating the thought with a wonderfully affirmative roll of his hips. Jaskier feels his cheeks heat at the press of Geralt’s equally hard cock against his seat beneath the water.

“ _Gods_ …gives the term ‘body guarding’ a whole new meani—” The words die on his lips as Geralt abruptly grips his hips, lifting and turning him until he’s on his knees, looking over the edge as a fresh wave of water splashes onto the floor. Geralt’s hands proceed to slide under the wet fabric of his shirt, tugging it up and Jaskier sheds it gladly, bracing his hands against the sides of the tub. A fresh montage of unintelligible filth tumbles from his lips as the witcher’s teeth lay siege to his back.

“Geralt…” Jaskier pants as one of Geralt’s hands slides over his chest “…if vandalizing a work of art is your plan to make the job of warding away potential _buyers_ easier, know that it is already working…and no one has even seen me yet…” He gasps as Geralt’s hand slides between his legs, cupping him through his trousers, while the other hand grips his hip and hauls him up almost out of the water.

“I’m counting on it.” The witcher growls, chewing at the back of Jaskier’s neck and grinding his hips forward as he does.

Geralt’s hands are yanking at Jaskier’s wet trousers now, shoving them roughly down his thighs, and he bites back a choked-off groan as Geralt’s hand wraps his cock. He all but loses his mind as Geralt simultaneously ruts into the crack of his bare ass, sinking his teeth into the nook of his shoulder and grunting against his skin. He grinds his hips back against the slide of Geralt’s cock, the crest of orgasm building quickly as Geralt’s fist pumps him against the surface of the water.

“Geralt, Fff-u-u-ck!” He cries out, cock pulsing in Geralt’s grip at almost the same moment the witcher goes rigid behind him, hips jerking in involuntary fits and thrusts as Geralt spills down his backside.

Panting slightly, Jaskier lets his arms slip bonelessly over the side of the tub. Geralt’s hands are still holding his hips and the sounds of his heavy breathing and the gentle ‘splick’ of water dripping off their bodies and over the sides of the tub fill the post-coital silence.

As his adrenaline recedes, he’s suddenly aware of several tingling spots across his neck, back and shoulders and he smiles in spite of himself, thankful his wardrobe choice is high-necked. With an effort, he stands up, Geralt’s hands sliding from his hips and he catches a glimpse of himself in the washstand mirror.

“Good _gods_ , Geralt…” He says in his best scandalized voice, though the idiotic smile he can’t suppress rather spoils the effect, “…vandalized, _indeed_ …”

He twists around, craning his neck to get a look at his backside, where several raw red bite marks have created a fucking _constellation_ across his shoulders. The sounds of water swishing and sloshing and the appearance of Geralt in the mirror have him turning back around and almost colliding with the dripping wet witcher as he does.

“You’re right about one thing…” He breathes as a rather wolfish grin spreads on Geralt’s face, “…we are _not_ friends…”

Geralt only ‘hmmms’, leaning forward and affirming the statement with a kiss before reaching around and slapping Jaskier’s rear smartly.

“Ger— _you_!” He splutters as the witcher chuckles, teeth flashing as he turns and steps out of the tub.

“Come on, then…don’t want to keep a queen waiting.”

Impossible man.


End file.
